Page 13 of Feral Gods

"Thane follows his own path, as always." I move toward the exit, pausing only briefly to add: "Stay with Zephyr. Do not leave this chamber until I return."

I don't wait for her acknowledgment, striding purposefully through the temple corridors toward the western facade.

The approaching footsteps grow more distinct to my enhanced hearing—careful, measured, professional.

Not a common soldier, then. Someone trained in stealth operations.

An elite scout, perhaps, or an assassin.

Either way, they will not reach Kaia.

I select a position among the tumbled ruins of what was once an outer courtyard, now half-buried in snow and overgrown with hardy mountain vegetation.

The natural camouflage conceals my massive form as I settle into perfect stillness, a skill honed through centuries of combat even before my transformation into a creature of living stone.

Minutes pass in silent vigilance. Then, movement—a flash of dark against the pristine snow as a figure darts between cover points with practiced efficiency. A dark elf, clad in the distinctive armor of Liiandor's elite scouts, face obscured by a hood and mask that leaves only violet eyes visible.

The scout pauses at the edge of the courtyard, scanning the ruins with the cautious thoroughness of a predator entering unknown territory.

I remain motionless, allowing him to advance further into my chosen killing ground.

His confidence grows with each step, his guard lowering incrementally as he detects no immediate threat.

When he passes beneath my position, I strike.

I drop from above, wings snapping open at the last moment to control my descent.

The scout's reflexes are impressive—he's already rolling away as my claws rake the space he occupied a heartbeat earlier.

A dagger flashes in his hand, its blade gleaming with the telltale blue sheen of enchanted steel.

"Gargoyle," he hisses, the word part curse, part wonder. "The rumors are true."

I advance slowly, wings mantled to block his escape routes. "Your comrades failed to return with their report. Did you expect a different welcome?"

The scout shifts into a defensive stance, clearly trained for encounters with larger opponents. "I come alone. Under banner of parley."

A lie, almost certainly, but an intriguing one. I cock my head, studying him more carefully. "Parley requires good faith. Your king imprisoned us in stone for centuries. What faith should I place in his messenger?"

"Not the king's messenger," the scout replies, his violet eyes darting between my face and the claws flexing at my sides. "Lord Vathren's. He seeks information regarding his escaped property."

Rage floods my veins at the casual reference to Kaia as property. With speed that belies my size, I close the distance between us, seizing the scout by his throat and lifting him from the ground. The enchanted dagger clatters uselessly against my stone-like skin before falling to the snow.

"The human is not property," I growl, tightening my grip just enough to restrict breathing without crushing his windpipe. "She is under my protection. Remember that, if you live to report back to your master."

The scout claws ineffectually at my hand, his feet dangling above the ground. "The king... wants her," he gasps. "More than... the escaped slave. She heard... things."

I ease my grip slightly, allowing him to draw a ragged breath. "What things?"

"Plans. Rituals." The scout's eyes dart nervously to the side, as if seeking escape. "The awakening of... ancient weapons."

My interest sharpens. "What weapons?"

"I don't know details. Lord Vathren sent me to offer terms." Another gasping breath as I loosen my hold further. "Return the slave, and he will intercede with the king. Grant you... amnesty."

A bark of laughter escapes me, harsh and cold.

"Amnesty? For what crime? Existing after they attempted to erase us?

" I bring the scout's face closer to mine, letting him see the ancient rage burning in my amber eyes.

"What does Lord Vathren know of the gargoyles, scout?

What tales have survived our imprisonment? "

Fear dilates his pupils, the scent of it sharp in the cold air. "Stories... monsters created during the vrakken war. Betrayed the king. Cursed to stone by the purna."

"Betrayed the king?" My voice drops to a dangerous purr. "Is that the tale they tell? Not that we were betrayed? Not that we were heroes who saved their worthless kingdom from the vrakken, only to be rewarded with eternal imprisonment?"

The scout's eyes widen. "I... that's not the history we're taught."

"Of course not." I release him suddenly, letting him crumple to the snow at my feet. "History is written by the victors, and your ancestors needed to justify their treachery."

He scrambles backward, rubbing his throat, but makes no move to flee. Interesting. Either he's more dedicated to his mission than most, or there's more to this parley than he's revealed.

"Lord Vathren believes the king's obsession with the girl is... disproportionate," he says, voice raspy from my grip. "He seeks to understand why his household slave has become the focus of such extraordinary measures."

Ah. Now we reach the truth. Political maneuvering among the dark elf nobility, with Kaia as the unexpected fulcrum. I've seen such games before, played them myself in my former life.

"And if I told you why the king wants her so desperately?" I ask, circling the kneeling scout like a predator assessing wounded prey. "What would Lord Vathren offer in exchange for such valuable intelligence?"

The scout hesitates, clearly straying beyond his authorized negotiating parameters. "Protection," he finally offers. "Sanctuary within his estate, away from the king's direct authority."

I laugh again, the sound echoing across the snow-covered courtyard. "Exchanging one prison for another. Your lord's generosity overwhelms me." I stop circling, looming over him with wings partially extended. "Here is my counter-offer. You will return to Lord Vathren with a message."

The scout's posture straightens slightly, sensing the imminent conclusion of our encounter. "What message?"

"Tell him the gargoyles of Causadurn Ridge have awakened. Tell him the human called Kaia is under our protection, claimed as our ward by ancient rights of sanctuary. Tell him any who seek to reclaim her will face the full measure of our vengeance—a vengeance centuries in the making."

I allow my voice to drop to a menacing rumble.

"And tell him if he truly wishes to understand the king's interest in the girl, he should investigate the ancient texts regarding the purna bloodlines and their connection to the temple sanctuaries.

Perhaps then he will comprehend what forces he meddles with. "

The scout swallows hard, committing my words to memory. "And if he wishes further parley?"

"There will be no parley." I step back, allowing him space to rise. "There will be only surrender or war. The choice is his."

The scout retrieves his fallen dagger with a wary eye on my imposing form. "You would wage war against all of Liiandor for a human slave?"

The question strikes at the heart of the conflict raging within me—the irrational, overwhelming protectiveness I feel toward Kaia, disproportionate to any logical assessment of her value or our debt to her.

I don't fully understand it myself, this possessive instinct that grows stronger each day.

But I know with bone-deep certainty that I would indeed tear down the walls of Liiandor stone by stone before allowing them to reclaim her.

"She is ours," I state simply, the declaration feeling right in a way I cannot articulate. "Go now, before I reconsider your value as a messenger."

He backs away, maintaining eye contact until reaching the edge of the courtyard. Only then does he turn and sprint into the shelter of the trees, disappearing as skillfully as he arrived.

I watch until certain of his departure, then turn back toward the temple, my thoughts churning with the implications of this encounter.

Lord Vathren seeking separate negotiations from the king.

The reference to ancient weapons. And most troubling of all—my own visceral reaction to the thought of surrendering Kaia, even theoretically.

What is happening to me? This possessiveness goes beyond simple protection of a ward or repayment of a debt. It feels primal, instinctive, a claiming deep in my core that recognizes her as mine in ways I've never experienced before.

I find Zephyr waiting just inside the temple entrance, his expression carefully neutral. "I heard," he says simply. "Not the scout's words, but yours. Quite the declaration of intent."

"A necessary show of strength," I reply, brushing past him into the warmth of the inner temple. "Dark elves respect only power and the willingness to use it."

"Indeed." Zephyr falls into step beside me, his silver-gray form a stark contrast to my obsidian darkness. "Though I wonder if there wasn't something more personal in your claim. 'She is ours,' you said. A collective ownership I don't recall us discussing."

I halt, turning to face him fully. "Would you prefer I had said 'mine'? Because that was my first instinct."

The admission hangs between us, more revealing than I'd intended. Zephyr studies me with those unnervingly perceptive turquoise eyes, seeing too much as always.

"Fascinating," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "The sanctuary magic that responded to her plea—I wonder if it created some form of magical bond beyond the simple breaking of our curse."

"This isn't about magic," I growl, irritated by his scholarly detachment. "This is about protecting what we've claimed."

"What you've claimed," he corrects gently. "Though I notice you keep saying 'ours' and 'we.' Tell me, Ravik, have you considered that Thane and I might have our own feelings regarding our human ward? That your... possessiveness... might not be universally shared?"

The suggestion ignites an irrational surge of jealousy that catches me entirely off guard. The thought of Zephyr or Thane developing similar feelings toward Kaia sends a wave of territorial rage through me that I struggle to contain.

"She broke our curse," I counter, emphasizing the collective pronoun. "She is under our protection."

"Protection, yes," Zephyr agrees mildly. "But possession? That's a different matter entirely. And one I suspect our Kaia might have opinions about, were she consulted."

Our Kaia. The casual phrase both soothes and inflames my territorial instincts. I open my mouth to respond when a new presence interrupts our conversation.

Thane strides through the temple doors, blood-spattered and grim, his crimson eyes gleaming with the aftermath of battle. Bits of frost cling to his iron-black skin, suggesting he flew high and fast to return, rather than using the tunnels as planned.

"We have a problem," he announces without preamble. "The main force is closer than we thought. And they've brought Morwen."

Zephyr's expression tightens. "You're certain? You saw her?"

"Better." Thane tosses a small object onto the stone floor between us—a neptherium amulet inscribed with curse-sigils unmistakably in Morwen's distinctive style. "I took this from one of her apprentices. Right before I separated his head from his shoulders."

I kneel to examine the amulet without touching it. The magic emanating from it feels cold, ancient, malevolent. "Tracking spell," I identify after a moment. "Calibrated to human essence."

"Specifically to Kaia's essence," Thane corrects. "They had a lock of her hair. Must have collected it from her sleeping quarters in Liiandor."

The implications send ice through my veins. "If they can track her directly..."

"Then our sanctuary's defenses mean nothing," Zephyr finishes, his scholarly calm finally cracking to reveal genuine alarm. "They can pinpoint her exact location within the temple."

Thane's gaze shifts between us, his expression hardening. "We need to move her. Now. Before Morwen completes whatever ritual she's preparing."

"Where?" I demand, straightening to my full height. "Where in all of Protheka could we hide her from a tracking spell keyed to her essence?"

"The wildspont caverns," Zephyr suggests. "The ambient magic would disrupt the tracking. But it would mean risking encounter with the vrakken."

"Better the vrakken than Morwen," Thane argues. "At least against vrakkens, we stand a fighting chance."

Their conversation fades to background noise as a terrible realization dawns on me. There's only one truly safe option for Kaia, and it's one I find myself viscerally, irrationally opposed to implementing.

"We should send her away," I force myself to say, the words like acid on my tongue. "Alone. Without us. Our presence only draws more attention, makes her more valuable as a target."

Both gargoyles stare at me in shock, clearly not expecting this suggestion from the one who has been most overtly protective of our human ward.

"You can't be serious," Thane growls. "She wouldn't survive a day out there alone."

"She survived before she found us," I counter, though every word feels like a betrayal of the promise I made her. "And she wouldn't be tracked as aggressively without the complication of awakened gargoyles."

Zephyr shakes his head slowly. "It would be a death sentence, Ravik. You know this. Winter in Causadurn Ridge is merciless, and the dark elves would still pursue her for what she knows."

"And if keeping her with us means Morwen recaptures all of us? Returns us to stone sleep, or worse?" I argue, playing devil's advocate against my own deepest instincts. "What good are we to her then?"

The tension in the chamber builds as we face this impossible calculus.

I am torn between my promise to protect her and the pragmatic recognition that our presence may be the greatest threat to her safety.

The contradiction tears at me, exposing the irrational nature of my attachment to a human I've known barely three days.

"What if she doesn't want to leave?"

The quiet voice from the corridor doorway freezes us all in place.

Kaia stands there, her slender form silhouetted against the torchlight behind her, chin raised in that now-familiar expression of defiance.

How long has she been listening? Long enough, clearly, to understand the essence of our dilemma.

She steps into the chamber, eyes moving between the three of us before settling on me with an intensity that resonates in my core. "You promised no one would take me back to Liiandor while you drew breath. Was that just empty words?"